


Anchor

by missbecky



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Movie Scene, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhodey and Tony hang out together, fly together, and sometimes, anchor each other. Contains spoilers for Iron Man 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor

There's another suit, of course. There always will be, because, hey Tony Stark. But only one. No more Mark 42 craziness. Thankfully. This one's just "the suit." Still, Rhodey's seen the file name on Tony's computer, and even though he doesn't say anything, he thinks it's pretty cool. Bleeding Edge. Yeah. It's a good name.

Tony still refuses to go back to New York, even though he's got a whole tower to live in there. So while the Malibu house is being rebuilt (somewhat down the road; the California conservation groups didn't miss their chance to protest over a house being built so close to the water's edge), Tony and Pepper are staying in Washington, DC.

This works out pretty well, actually. Rhodey's job means he is in DC a lot, and it gives him and Tony a chance to connect. They go out for some drinks, some wings, some friendly bets over a couple games of pool. Tony's too good at it – math and all – but after he's had a few, Rhodey can usually take him. Most nights he breaks even, and that's quite all right with him.

Some days, they go flying.

Those are the best days, when it's all speed and aerobatics. They dive from dizzying heights only to pull up at the last minute. They fly circles around each other, laughing and daring the other to do something even more stupid or crazy. They fly over deserts, marshes, the North Pole. Rhodey sees the Earth like he's never seen it before, awe-inspiring vistas of such beauty that they take his breath away.

Then one afternoon it's down, way down, far beneath the ocean surface until the suit creaks a little with the force of the pressure from all that water. He drifts along in a circle of light that emanates from the suit's chest – still painted red, white, and blue, but still War Machine in his thoughts. Always gunmetal gray. His first – and probably only – baby.

"Hey Rhodey." Tony's voice sounds slightly breathless in his ear.

"Hey what," he says, because he's not sure he likes this. It's cool and all, being this far below the ocean, but he'd much rather be flying.

"Did I ever tell you about the time my house got blown up?" Tony says. He's drifting nearby, lit up by his own little circle of light. It looks weirdly like he's floating in a bubble.

"Um, you might have mentioned it," Rhodey says cautiously. He's liking less and less that strained, breathy quality to Tony's voice.

"Did I ever tell you that I got pulled under when it happened?" Tony says.

"Yeah, I knew that," Rhodey says. He's not too sure he wants to hear this. He's heard Pepper's version of events, which was bad enough. Mostly he and Tony don't talk about what happened with Killian, and that's pretty much fine by him. If he wanted to talk about it, he'd visit a therapist, and if he's even gone so far as to make an appointment – only to cancel it later – well, that's nobody's business but his own.

"The Mark 42, you know, it was just a prototype," Tony says. He still sounds really weird. Like he's trying way too hard to be casual. Rhodey knows that tone of voice all too well. "It wasn't really finished yet."

"Yeah," Rhodey says. Under the water, with only their two small lights to indicate that there is life down here, his voice comes out very small.

For a long while Tony doesn't say anything. They drift, silent and still. Rhodey glances upward, wondering how much water is pressing down on him right now, how fast he would die if the suit gave out, if he would have time to scream, or if he would just be squashed into oblivion before he could realize what was happening.

"It wasn't sealed," Tony says, startling him out of his dark thoughts.

It's been so long since he originally spoke that at first Rhodey doesn't connect it to his previous statements. Then he puts it together, and he sucks in a sharp breath. "Jesus."

"Yeah," Tony says. He makes a sound that could be a laugh, could be an attempt to keep from sobbing. "It wasn't fun."

"How close was it?" Rhodey asks. He can't imagine it, water slowly filling up the suit, cold horror rising inexorably toward his face, higher and higher…

"Pretty close," Tony says curtly. "For the record, the Pacific Ocean tastes like crap."

Rhodey shudders. God. 

He knows, even if no one else does, that Tony has issues with water. He was there at the start, in that blazing desert when Tony was still mostly out of it, wild-eyed and pushing everyone away with his good arm, talking so fast there was no pause between the words, just a torrent of speech and recriminations and confessions. Rhodey remembers, even if no one else does, that in one breath Tony told them he agreed to build the Jericho only because they tortured him by nearly drowning him, then in the next he congratulated himself on how sneaky he was by designing his suit of armor right beneath their noses instead.

"I'm sorry," he says. He wrinkles his nose, because wow, that was lame, but he had to say _something._

"Yeah," Tony says, and it's no wonder he sounds breathless and weird. "Me too."

"So is that why we're here?" Rhodey asks. "To prove a point?"

"Maybe," Tony says. He makes that odd sound again, and now Rhodey is certain that he's crying a little. Probably he doesn't even know he's doing it.

"Okay," Rhodey says. He resists the urge to look up again; they are way too deep for him to see the surface, anyway. "Well, you let me know when you're ready to go."

Tony doesn't respond. He just drifts in his little bubble of light, all red and gold and the best friend Rhodey's ever had.

This far down, it's difficult to maneuver. He makes little awkward swimming motions that get him nowhere at first, until he figures it out. Then he's able to propel himself forward.

Tony looks up, the suit's blank face aimed in his direction. "Rhodey?"

He doesn't say anything. He just reaches out and puts one metal hand on Tony's arm. Holding him. 

Anchoring him.

They drift.


End file.
